The Dog
by Attacked By Snakes
Summary: The prophecy child is dead along with the rest of the Potters, or is he? Rumors of Voldemort's heir are flying around the wizarding world, but one must be careful what they beleive in a world filled with so much prejudice and deceit.
1. Prologue

_I own nothing, JK Rowling owns HP._

_**Row of "S.J." signifies a scene break**_

**The Dog**

_Sentimental Joe_

Prologue

The sun had almost sunk out of view and the sky exploded into hues of orange, pink and red. The moon was just visible, a pale crescent sliver in the dusk sky. The last rays of bright light beamed through the glass window of the house, irritating the baby inside.

It wasn't long before a young red haired woman opened the door into the room where the sun had intruded, evidently the baby's cries had reached her ears and she had dropped whatever it was she was doing and came to care for the child right away. The

woman picked up the almost alleviated baby and held it to her chest, whispering into its ear and rocking it back to sleep, she sang a soft tune to the baby, and surprisingly quickly the baby fell back into sweet slumber, the rays of sun had disappeared without a fight as the sun sank beneath the green fields that seemed to roll on forever, occasionally disrupted by a towering tree reaching up out of the grass, grasping for the sky.

Even when the baby had fallen asleep the woman still held him, caressing his soft face and smiling a sad sort of smile. An observant person may have noticed her stunning green eyes starting to water, making them seem as they were emerald goblets filling up with water, the tears then dropped. Each tear landed softly on the baby's face, making a small smile appear on the child's soft pale face, the child showed no other signs of noticing the tears.

The woman laid the baby back into its decorative oaken crib and looked at him for a few moments. With another small, pained smile she turned and walked out the door, turning back once she reached the doorframe to look once again, at her only child. She didn't know that it would be the last time she ever put him to bed.

She walked down the long red hall toward the spiralling staircase; she continued to hum the soft sounding tune she had sung to the baby as she seemed to glide down the stairs one hand sliding down the redwood rail and the other hung loosely by her side subconsciously spinning a twelve inch piece of thin, rounded wood. The stick fell from her hand and her eyes darted anxiously toward the front door, for whatever reason, and then back to her piece of wood just as it clattered on the wooden steps. The wood rolled down the stairs and stopped a few feet after the last step. The stick lay there, for a moment; before she ran down the stairs, picked it up and pointed it toward the door in one fluid motion.

Nothing happened and she sighed in obvious relief and dropped the hand holding her stick to her side. The sound of footsteps reached her ears, pounding across the house towards her. Eyes widened in apprehension she lifted the lengthy piece of wood once more just as a man came into view.

"Lilly? What's going on!" the man almost shouted.

"Oh, it's nothing James…" The woman, Lilly, said breathlessly. James pinned her with a knowing look and sighed. He walked toward her and took her into his arms; she pushed herself up against his strong chest and revelled in the safeness she felt near him.

"It'll be okay soon Lils," he whispered into her ear, "soon we'll be able to live again, and I mean _really _live. Soon it'll be all better and we can live happily with Harry. I promise."

"I know James, its just… I'm scared," Lilly replied; her words almost incoherent as she was sobbing quietly into James now wet sweater. James wanted to tell her that he was scared too, because he was. He was deathly afraid. He didn't though, he whispered words into her ear; they both knew that the words were empty, but they calmed his beautiful wife down. He would do anything for her; he would even hive up his own life.

So they stood there, they didn't know how long they just rested in each other's embrace, silently reliving each other of their fears.

"It'll be alright…" James said soothingly.

S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J.

As the emotional commotion was taking place at the Potter's residence, another commotion was occurring, the latter quite different. Inside a large manor a meeting of great importance was taking place, the verdict would, in essence, dictate the future of their world.

"Soon, soon the whole world will be under my control… but there is still that prophecy…" thought a certain black robed man aloud to himself. He was very mysterious looking, sitting slightly hunched, obviously deep in thought, on a large stone throne-like chair. A large hood rose up out of the black cloak and threw shadows over his face; the odd time a glint of red would appear under the hood, but it was gone as quick as it appeared. The figure brought his hands up and put his finger tips together, a thoughtful pose. The figures head jerked up suddenly and his hand slipped inside his cloak inconspicuously as he heard the heavy wooden doors swing open.

A rat like man entered the door, it seemed as if he had only opened the door wide enough for him to just barely squeeze through; he shut the door after he scurried a ways in. He cast his eyes around the room, pupils moving faster than most would thing possible, the enthroned figure could tell the rat-faced intruder was shaking something terrible.

Now, under normal circumstances he would have killed anyone who dared to just walk into his room, every one of his servants knew that; which is exactly why the mysterious figure was curious. There was a chaotic noise outside the door and both of the doors burst open, there stood three black robed, white masked figures; all had their wands raised.

"What is the meaning of this?" Questioned the man on the throne, quietly but he managed to sound imperious at the same time.

" M-Milord," stammered one of the white-masked figures, "We don't know how this…person," he seemed hesitant to call the rodent-like man a person "got inside the fortress! He just appeared in front of the doors!"

"Now, now, Lucius, you know apparition inside of here is entirely impossible." The man responded from his throne. The man called Lucius raised his hand as if to point accusingly at the seated figure in front of him, but quickly changed his mind. Any age was too young for the painful death that would have come from that particular action. The 'Lord' as Lucius had called him turned his attention to the quivering man who had barged in. "Who are you? Speak quickly or you wont live to… do whatever it is you do." Spoke the 'Lord' scathingly. The grubby man made a high pitched yelping kind of sound at being directly acknowledged.

"I-I-I Have In-Information!" The mans face was impossible to read, not because he was a master at hiding his emotions, like the rest of the people in the room, it was merely because he had so many expressions running across his face he looked like he might pass out from sheer exhaustion. "P-prophecy!"

The 'Lord' narrowed his eyes, though none could tell, this was after all, becoming very interesting.

"Spit it out, rat, or I'll tip you apart!" The 'Lord' hissed, his calm but terrifying demeanour changed swiftly to a vicious but equally frightening one.

"I-I know who the child of the prophecy is!" The man's stutter becoming less, but he still looked overly afraid.

"So do I," The 'Lord' responded dryly, this was fast becoming useless… he itched terribly to kill this ugly intruding rat. It seemed as if the 'ugly intruding rat' sensed this and he started grasping at straws, to save his life. He ended up saying something he did not actually come here to say.

"I know where he is, Right now!" A split second after he cried out those words, the ratty man's eyes opened with horror and his mouth didn't seem able to close. He hadn't meant to _directly_ sell out his friends.

The 'Lord' grinned, very happy for the first time in a long while.

"Where might that be then?" He hissed, he voice sounding much like a snake. The disturbed traitor licked his lips nervously and in his mind he weighed his options. He could either live and be a traitor, or die and remain a good friend to the only people that had befriended him in those many years of school. Now, it might seem like an obvious choice, but for him it wasn't, and what it came down to was life or death. They _could_ survive even if I told…_maybe_ they won't be home when he attacks them… thoughts such as those ran through his head as he made his decision.

"Godrics Hollow" He had said a full phrase with out stuttering in front of the Dark Lord, the most feared man in the last century in the Wizarding World, Lord Voldemort.

Now, he never knew this, but this traitor would be bound to Voldemort for the rest of his life, he could never escape.

The mysterious Lord Voldemort grinned; he had what he needed for complete domination of the wizarding world, and a new servant as well. Lord Voldemort pushed his magical energy into each of his followers, congratulating himself on creating such a handy device as the dark mark. He had plans, and they would soon be set into motion.


	2. Chapter One

_I own nothing, JK Rowling owns HP._

_**Row of "S.J." signifies a scene break**_

_Note:_ I wrote a different language n this chapter, for a small part only. It's German but it probably isn't all right. Sorry if it isn't and if you care to include the proper spelling in a review. The English translation will be posted at the bottom.

**The Dog**

_Sentimental Joe_

Chapter One

Almost immediately following their Lord's signal through the dark mark the Death Eaters arrived. The black robed servants spilled into the spacious throne room, a seemingly never ending flow of the Dark Lord's servants, slaves. Although the room was full to bursting and people were strewn up against one another uncomfortably, they all managed to bow before their master.

"Rise," spoke Voldemort, a slight amount of glee slipped through his emotional barriers and sneaked into his tone. At his command all of them rose to their feet, a few tripped on others robes, but soon enough all were standing and anxiously waiting for what was to come. Even the dimmest of the servants could tell something incredible was going to take place soon, something great.

Voldemort rose himself and motioned for the foremost people to come toward him, his inner circle.

"What is it you wish, Milord," spoke a feminine voice from behind her pearly mask, her violet eyes sparkling with poorly hidden excitement, her voice shook with anxiousness. Her Lord was after all, very unpredictable. Voldemort silenced her with a sharp look, and then turned his attention once more to the masses.

"You will all stay here while the inner circle and I are gone, I will elaborate as I see fit when I return!" Voldemort commanded his servants. He wanted them to be here when he came back, to celebrate his concrete victory by means of a mass mudblood slaughtering. The Dark Lord then turned and acknowledged his most loyal servants "Follow me." He spoke simply, withholding the malice that usually laced his tone. With that he swept out of the hall his black garb billowing as if there had been a large breeze flowing through the immense room. The inner circle followed at a respectful distance, their footsteps coincidently matching; creating echoes in the hall that was the exit from the throne room.

The hall was made of dark stone with a high ceiling. Torches hung from the walls precariously, it seemed as if they wood fall at any given moment, but none of the walkers paid any heed to the lighting. Some spots on the walls were visibly cleaner than others, large rectangular spaces; it seemed portraits had taken up those spaces once upon a time. Now though, there was only one portrait in the long hall, and this one, unlike most wizarding pictures, did not move. The man in the picture looked very aristocratic, with high cheekbones and a pointed look in his black eyes. His hair was short and combed properly and carefully, his head was turned slightly to the side; he seemed to be staring at something right beside you.

As the inner circle and Lord Voldemort were walking at a brisk pace, heels clicking in a fast rhythm, one rat-like man named Peter was staggering along behind them in an unsteady speed walk. The scene would have been comical if his present situation wasn't life or death. It looked as if the most-feared people of this day were unsurprisingly not going to slow down for him, so he sped up, successfully losing his already poor balance and ending up sprawled on the stone floor. Still, no one paid any attention to his plight. Peter picked himself back up and tried to keep up as well as he could, unfortunately there was a corner up ahead, and his 'escorts' were turning down it. Quickening his clumsy movements he rounded the corner to find… more doors, three of them. None of these thick, heavy looking wooden doors were opened. Thoughts of escape bolted through Peter's skull, he could get away now and save his life, after all, it really did seem like You-Know-Who would kill him as soon as he had the information he needed.

"Which door would they have least likely gone through…?" Whispered Peter aloud to himself, weighing his options. He cursed himself under his breath for his sense of direction, or lack thereof. Deciding that he had just better chose quickly before he was found again, he went through the door on the left side of the hall instead of the one directly in front of him or to the right.

"Took you long enough… rat!" The same female Death Eater that Lord Voldemort had spoken to earlier snarled at him from behind her pure white mask, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Hurry up; they're a ways ahead already." With that she grabbed his forearm, pulled him roughly in front of her and then pushed his back with her palm forcefully, propelling him forward. After stumbling for a moment he regained his footing and started walking forward, his chance of escape was lost and he had now only one option if he wanted to at least have a chance at life.

S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J. S.J.

The Potter's had long since calmed down, and were now sitting at the dining room table, eating a very late dinner. Lilly had brought Harry down and he was sitting on the table, gurgling happily and laughing. Every so often Lilly would feed him some of her own food, but he didn't seem to want to eat much as at the moment he was having far too much time playing a little game with a small plastic fork. Harry was waving the eating utensil specifically made for babies around like he had seen his father wave his wand around, in circles with jabs and diagonal cuts.

"Did Harry just perfectly execute the proper wand motion for _Wingardium Leviosa_?" James questioned, jokingly with a large grin on his face, remembering his own school days. Lilly just rolled her eyes.

"Your absolutely barmy." Was all she said and then continued eating; James just grinned wider.

"Well, I'm done, I'll cleanup too. Harry should get to bed now," Lilly said matter-of-factly.

"I'll take the little gaffer up to bed then." James said as he ruffled the hair on his beloved sons' head. Harry giggled loudly but it was cut short as he yawned louder than any baby should have right too and almost fell over on the table.

James picked Harry up and began progressing across the dinning room towards the stairs, his feet making soft pattering sounds as he stepped. He made his way up the stairs, across the hall and finally into Harry's room. The room was brightly coloured, in yellows and soft blues, it had wooden trimming to match his crib. James had insisted that Harry have quiditch posters on his walls, quiditch pajamas, quiditch blankets and well… everything quiditch.

As his father laid him down in his crib Harry yawned once more and fell into blissful slumber for the night, or at least part of it. James stared down at his son, smiling fondly and coming to the conclusion that he would look just like him when he grew up.

"Just don't break too many hearts kido…" With that said softly, James walked out of the room for the last time in his life. He walked down into the kitchen where Lilly was in the process of casting cleaning charms on all of the dirty dishes.

"Almost done? Harry's not the only one who needs some _sleep_," James said, with a small smirk on his face.

"Yes, _sleep indeed_," Lilly responded, sighing and rolling her eyes, but in good nature. James just laughed and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He turned his attention to his wife's neck and she let out a small sigh. James smiled against her skin.

"You need to shave, you know," Lilly teased. James looked up at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Are you sure?" He said sarcastically, "does it tickle?"

"Only a little bi-AH!" Lilly screeched as James started using his fingers to tickle her sides, she broke away and ran from him, laughing all the while.

"Think you can run from a star quicitch player, do you?" James spoke across the room to her retreating back. He soon took off after her, and was soon shortening the distance between the two of them. Soon enough he caught up to her and lightly tackled her to the carpet, pinning her underneath him with on hand while the other continued to tickle her sides. "Quiet now, you'll wake Harry!" James said mock sternly. Lilly tried to stop laughing but it was to no avail and she broke out into louder laughter.

"St-stop!" Lilly said between bits of laughter, "Stop tickling me!"

"If you insist…" James said, and by the way he said it she knew he was up to something. He leaned in closer, and was about to plant a kiss on her lips when there was multiple loud cracking sounds, the exact sound made when wizard-folk apparated. James and Lilly both froze…

"I-Is… it Dumbledore…?" Lilly questioned, but both knew the answer, and that was a huge, glowing, flashing 'NO.'

"It's _him!_" whispered James urgently; Lilly could almost detect a trace of fear through his Gryffindor courage. "Take Harry, get out of here NOW!" James spoke in a stage whisper.

"How did they find us?" Lilly questioned, she had veiled some of her fear, using her own Gryffindor qualities.

"That doesn't matter right now! Just get Harry and get out of here, quickly!" James commanded her, and Lilly knew she would have to obey, but she had one last question.

"What about you?" She asked worriedly.

"I'll hold him off for as long as I can! Now, move along!" By now he was almost shouting. Lilly took a step forward and kissed James on the lips, passionately. They both knew this was more than likely the end.

With her fear replaced him iron will she broke the kiss, looked one last time into his hazel brown eyes and ran off. She bolted up the stairs faster than one would have though possible, slammed Harry's door open, awakening him in the process. He didn't cry; he just stared at her with a look in his eyes. She stared into his eyes for a split second but it seemed like longer, she saw… understanding? No, that was impossible, he was just a baby. She quickly grabbed him and his light blue quiditch blanket, wrapped him in it and ran for his door. At that very same instant she heard a high pitched voice speak the fatal and final words.

"_Avada Kedavra" _The words were spoken in an impossible calml, given what they did. She knew only one person could manage that. She didn't panic or scream in terror as many would have, she just spoke two simple words:

"Goodbye James, I'll see you soon," She knew she couldn't escape anymore, so she went to her last resort, she had to save her child somehow. She racked her mind for ways to protect him and only came up with one.

When she was younger she had come across an old Merlin-Time Germanic charm that could protect against the killing curse. Of course she had read all about it, but she knew she could never try it. It was after all, a 'dark' spell. At least, it was under today's 'light and dark' classification of magic. It was called dark because it required a sacrifice, a life sacrifice. But it also required unimaginable amounts of love to be completed successfully. Love like that shared between most mothers and their babies. She started uttering the words under her breath, while looking directly into Harry's eyes, her own eyes watering:

"_Liebe über Tod, Leben über Hass; nimmt meinen letzten Atem, Ihr eigenes Schicksal zu überleben."(1a)_

There was no extravagant flash of light, not loud sound, nothing that could be seen of felt by a bystander. The only reason Lily knew that it was half-complete was the massive magical drain and the warm feeling inside her. To make the spell work, she had about five minutes to die. Any longer and the spell would be useless and she was too drained to do it again.

She moved to open the door, confront Voldemort and get him to kill her, the door flew open dramatically. There stood Lord Voldemort, for no one in the wizarding world could have mistaken him from someone else.

Lilly stared into the blood red slits that served as eyes for the monster that stood before her, an obvious look of defiance in her eyes; she knew what her fate was to be.

"So, this is the child of the prophecy, the one that would defeat me. It cannot even walk!" Voldemort said scathingly.

"Actually, he can. He can walk almost across his room." Lilly replied daringly. A look of shock passed over the Dark Lord's facial features, but it passed so fast Lilly thought that it was her imagination. He glared at her.

"You dare disagree with me? I am Lord Voldemort!" He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named screeched in rage.

"I know very well who you are, Voldemort." Lilly responded, almost matching the scathing tone she had heard Slytherins use so often in her school days. Lord Voldemort saw red after that comment.

"I am going to kill you very slowly, mudblood!" Voldemort sneered. Lilly's eyes opened for a second in horror, slowly? No it could not be slow, time was already running out. Maybe she could provoke him into killing her quickly? She reached for her wand with an overly obvious movement and whipped it out, Lord Voldemort saw the movement long before she had her magical focus out and he spoke the killing curse with venom that a cute little puppy never could, ever.

Just before the green flash of light hit her he saw a look of peace and happiness on her face, he couldn't understand why. Death was the worst thing that could happen to a person, he thought. That was why he longed for immortality with such a passion. He passed it off as some useless mudblood trait and made his way to the child sitting on the carpeted floor, starring up at him.

"Harry Potter," Lord Voldemort said, addressing the baby as if he could respond back. "The child of Lilly and James potter, two of the most talented magic-users of their generation… It's a good thing I'm not of their generation then am I?" The Dark Lord asked Harry. "You would never be able to defeat me… By the time you're eleven and ever begin to learn any magic I'll have completed my goal of immortality and have taken over the world, nothing, especially a baby, can stop me!" And with that said Lord Voldemort leveled his wand at the baby Harry's head, right between his eyes and summoned up all the hatred he could, an immense amount.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _A flash of brilliant green light; light that may very well have been beautiful if not for what its effect was, beamed out of the phoenix feather wand of Lord Voldemort and straight towards the Potter child's forehead.

An inexperienced wizard would not have even seen the extra flash of light and an even brighter green light headed straight toward him, but Lord Voldemort was not inexperienced, he was in fact, more experienced with the dark arts and combat magic than any other wizard before him. Most of the famous wizards earlier on: Merlin, La Faye, The Founders and even Albus Dumbledore paid more attention to wards and more complicated magic. Voldemort was a master at fighting; his various rituals had increased his raw magical reserves and power. Other rituals had increased his physical endurance, strength and speed. So, Lord Voldemort _did_ see the Killing Curse headed straight back towards him and he jumped out of the way in time to save his life. The only evidence that he had been near a Killing Curse was the minor problem of his left arm being, well… nonexistent.

What in Salazar's name happened?" Voldemort almost shouted his surprise for once was obvious. "Did that child just block the Killing Curse? It just wasn't possible. The sheer power that would take…" Voldemort thought to himself, trailing off.

Most would think that a man like Voldemort would just obliterate the child, now with even more hatred. But most don't think like Voldemort does. The Dark Lord saw amazing potential in this child, a child with no parents, an orphan, just like himself.

"Bloody Hell, he even looks a little like me…" Voldemort muttered very uncharacteristically. "An heir," Voldemort said to himself. He had been trying to reap an heir for a while now, using various female Death Eaters. He had been using the best of what he _fondly_ named 'breeding stock.' He had little success, only coming out with normal to just above average powered wizard children. He even had a squib, but it was put to death the moment Lord Voldemort checked the size of its magical core, which was so small it was almost impossible to sense, even for him.

That was how you checked how powerful a wizard someone was or would become, by the size of their magical core. You had to take into consideration the training and magical maturation that the child would go through, and in Voldemort's case, rituals but he did and there was hardly anything extraordinary, until now. This Potter child must have a massive magical core to come out of a Killing Curse with only a small scar. No matter what protection had been put on him. Oh yes, Voldemort sensed the protection Lilly had thought no one could. He had undergone so many rituals that he wasn't even human anymore, he was part-demon. He could easily sense the light magic on the child, but that would soon be taken care of.

Voldemort Scooped up the child roughly in his right arm and basically dragged it on the front lawn where his inner circle was awaiting him.

"What's with the kid?" spoke a Death eater viciously, an almost hungry light in his eyes. His bone mask shifting slightly as his facial expression turned from an incredible nothing to a practiced sneer.

"No questions." Voldemort responded. "Let us apparate back to the manor. I must think on some things and get my arm…healed. Crabbe, Goyle, I want this place burnt to the ground." The Dark Lord pointed his wand into the sky and shouted a spell; the infamous Dark Mark appeared over the Potter's home. "The rest of you, follow me back to the manor, now!" Lord Voldemort commanded. With a few loud cracks and one semi-silent pop the remaining Death Eaters and their Master along with the prophecy child apparated back to the base-of-operations, Riddle Manor.

Meanwhile an impossibly loud alarm went off in one old man's office. His eyes opened suddenly and he knew exactly what it meant, his eyes watered and it wasn't long before his pillow was wet with salty tears.

Across the street from the burning home of Lilly and James Potter a small rat watched the house burn, he turned and apparated to the Riddle Manor as well, he would never escape what he had done.

1a -"Love over Death, life over hatred; take my last breath, to survive your own fate."


	3. Chapter Two

_I own nothing, JK Rowling owns HP._

_**Row of "S.J." signifies a scene break**_

**The Dog**

_Sentimental Joe_

Chapter Two

Albus Dumbledore was an old man, older than most knew. But even in his old age he was spry, fit and almost sane. This night though, was an exception. He felt older now than he ever had, the death of the Potter's had hit him like a fist to the gut. His eyes were red from crying and his face and snow white beard were wet from salty tears. He was crying so hard that he was glad he was a strong swimmer. He curled his fingers around the armrest on the Hogwarts headmaster's chair so tight that the skin covering his knuckles turned as white as a Death Eaters mask, bone white.

It was now nearly two o' clock in the morning, he had been sitting at his desk grieving for a few hours now. Albus glanced at his desk and saw a golden locket, shinning through his blurred vision. Blinking, he wiped away the tears and stared at the phoenix pendent, the mark of the Order.

Most people thought that Dumbledore had started the Order of the Phoenix when the war against Voldemort began back in the early seventies. This was untrue; The Order had been created much further back in history, the earliest record of it being the time when Merlin headed it. The name changed though, each new leader changed the name of the Order so as to hide its identity; the phoenix pendant though remained the same since the beginning. In fact the very same pendent that Dumbledore now wore was the only belonging of Merlin's ever found. The pendent consisted of defensive spells and charms that not even he, Albus Dumbledore, could understand.

As he was thinking about his pendent he realized with a new wave of sadness sweeping over him that the rest of the Order would need to know of Lilly and James's death. They were friends with them after all, and it wouldn't be right to keep something like this from them for even a little while longer. With a heavy sigh and a heart much the same he gripped the pendent in his fist, making all the other pendants glow and become warm. When the members of the Order felt their pendants, which they wore at all times, become heated they would know that Albus was calling an Order meeting. It was a rare thing that someone would be late or skip an order meeting, but it wasn't like the Death Eaters meetings where missing meetings without the Dark Lord's permission was basically the same as walking up to the Dark Lord with a "Kill me, I'm a Mudblood" sign taped to your forehead.

Mad-Eye Moody, as he was called, was in his basement checking for any charms that someone could have come in and placed on his belongings while he was asleep last night. He felt his phoenix pendant heat up against the skin on his chest. With one last suspicious glare at the dark dank basement he ran to the sitting room upstairs, grabbed the necessary pinch-full of floo powder and flooed to the Order's secret location, shouting the address as the flames turned green and flashed him away.

Remus Lupin had been sitting in a comfortable chair in his living room reading a book on magical theory when he felt his pendant warm. He carefully marked his page and set the book down on a slightly shabby coffee table. He went to his fireplace, called out the address sombrely with a serene look on his face. Something bad must have happened, he thought. But he never suspected what the Headmaster would tell him, not in his most depressing nightmares, and he had _very_ depressing nightmares.

Sirius Black, or Padfoot, had been sleeping since early that afternoon because the last couple days were hectic with Death Eater attacks. When he got home this morning from an overnight battle in the outskirts of London he had never even made it to his bed before he was out like a light. Sirius felt something warm, but it didn't wake him, it only annoyed him slightly before he shifted positions and could no longer feel the pendant. He fell back into a deeper sleep, missing the summons, he wouldn't hear of his best friend's death until the sun shed some light on it.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks were very busy these days, what with all the Death Eater raids, so when their pendants heated up they could be found in the Ministry of Magic building. Shacklebolt was upstairs in the Head Auror's office. Three other high-ups were there as well, all bent over a map, carefully speculating it trying to guess where the next attack would take place.

While Kingsley was a few floors up trying to burn holes through a piece of parchment with his eyes, Tonks was downstairs writing reports. All Auror's had to write out detailed reports every time they raised their wands at work, offensively or defensively, much like a muggle police officer and their guns. Both felt their pendants heat up at the same time, while Tonks just left straight away for the Ministries floo system without a word, Kingsley had to make up some sort of excuse, luckily the stoic Auror was smart enough to create a believable excuse and was whispering the address only minutes after Tonks.

There were many other members of the Order, many working in the ministry, sharing curious looks with each other as they met in a rush in the hallway, all trying their very best to look inconspicuous. To look as if they were only out for a night time stroll in mostly Death Eater infested streets. If the ministry wasn't such a zoo at the time, they would have been found out.

There was only one fireplace connected to the floo network in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, so people were coming out of it one after another, almost falling over each other, with one exception. Tonks did not _almost _fall over someone, she did, spectacularly. Tonks fall had a domino affect, knocking over four others, luckily, no one died, death being entirely possible when Tonks was near a fire place or anything else above thirty degrees.

When everyone had picked themselves up, giving Tonks, who was doing her best impersonation of a tomato, an exasperated glare; Remus Lupin, who had arrived third, only coming after Dumbledore and Moody, eyes the scene with a glint in his eye.

"Well, now that everyone has fallen into place, we can begin the meeting!" The almost-joke was met with glares and groans. Remus turned to Dumbledore, who was the one to usually make such comments. But not today, Remus noted, his stomach twisting into a knot. Albus looked horrible, his red rimmed eyes and pale, drawn face spoke volumes. Remus was especially worried because Dumbledore, their leader, was usually the one to keep so much hope alive. He looked jovial on a regular basis, weather he felt it or not.

With that everyone walked into the kitchen, where a large table was set up with many uncomfortable wooden chairs surrounding it. Once everyone was seated, a red haired man asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

"What's going on, Albus?" his voice shook with anxiety and a trace of fear, but this man, like the majority of the Order, was a Gryffindor. Dumbledore stared at the tablecloth's intricate patterns, trying to find words in his vast vocabulary to break the news, especially to Remus and Sirius. Taking a look around Dumbledore realized Sirius wasn't here!

"Where is Sirius," questioned Dumbledore urgently, he dearly hoped Sirius hadn't heard of this before and done something rash that would get him killed or imprisoned. Remus was the one to answer.

"He told me he was going to sleep all day and night because he hardly got any sleep lately; the Auror office has been more than a little busy, he says." Remus stated formally, with a questioning undertone. All the other Auror's in the room made affirmative sounds, from grunts and sarcastic snorts, to heavy sighs. Dumbledore was a little relieved.

"We shall let him sleep then…" Albus stated, obviously thinking about something else.

"Albus, you seem unnaturally tense tonight, what's happened?" Molly Weasley, the wife of the red haired man asked. She looked the place up and down and deciding that it was too dirty, dark and dusty for her likes. A full scale make-over was definitely due, she'd see to it someday.

"Something has happened…. something terrible." Albus started tentatively. Curious but fearful looks were on all the faces of the order with that said. Dumbledore looked like he really didn't want to carry on finishing what he started saying. Moody decided to give him a bit of a nudge, to encourage him to not leave them hanging, dreading.

"Whatever has happened Albus, we must know. The rules of the Order state that…" Moody was cut off by Dumbledore's voice cutting through his comment like a cutting curse through butter.

"I know the rules of the order moody!" Albus' voice cracked like a whip. Moody drew himself up as if to pounce on Albus, verbally of course… "I'm sorry Alastor, I'm unusually emotional right now for reasons I shall reveal to you at this time." Dumbledore said in a resigned tone of voice. "There's been a terrible loss… Not even I am sure how this could have happened but…" Albus was cut off by a sudden statement from Remus.

"I know why Sirius isn't here, but what about Lilly and James? Why aren't they here? Do they have to stay in hiding, even during the meetings?" Dumbledore just stared at Remus, eyes filled with pain and the only sparkle in his sky blue eyes was the one of a tear. Remus made the connection the fastest, quickly followed by Moody and Kingsley. Remus' face paled drastically. "No!" Remus shouted as he made his way to the fire place. H crossed the room in speed only available to people with certain 'diseases.' With one swift motion he had gripped a handful of floo powder, much more than necessary, and screamed at the top of his lungs, "Godric's Hollow!" But nothing happened. "It's the fidelius, right Albus? That's why I can't floo right!" Remus asked in desperation. By now all of the Order had made the connection, and were looking at each other, but mostly towards Remus with looks of extreme sympathy. The Potter's had been great people, not to mention very beneficial to the Order.

"I'm sorry Remus, Their House no longer exists. It was burnt to the ground and the Dark Mark is even now resting over the ruins." Albus said, ignoring his own sorrow in Order to try and placate Remus just in case he decided to do something rash.

"You're lying! What about Harry!" Remus spat the first part out viciously, and the second part about his best friend's son was exclaimed with much apprehension.

"Harry is nowhere to be seen; we figure his body was destroyed completely, for reasons… unknown." Remus stared at him for a few seconds, not believing that the reasons really were unknown, before jumping forwards with speed only a were-wolf like he could manage; he had Albus' neck in his tight grip faster than anyone could react.

"How do you know… why didn't you stop it!" Howled Remus in such a rage, he had never been this angry in his life; anger fuelled by fear, extreme sadness and an immeasurable sense of loss. Order members pulled Remus off Albus with ease, as the middle-aged werewolf's grip lessened, due to him being lost in thought. James accepted him, even though he was a 'dark creature,' Lilly too. Where most people would have and did shun him and his kind, they didn't. They judged him by his personality and things he could control. They didn't judge him over something he could not even get rid of no matter how hard he tried, and he had tried.

"I know because I'm the once who cast the Fidelius on the Potter's home. The Fidelius creates a bond with the caster, my magical core was holding up the Fidelius, so I felt it in my core when it was nullified.

"You're core held up two Fidelius wards for more than six months?" a stern looking lady by the name of Minerva McGonagall asked incredulously, a look of shock on her face. Albus was about to responded when they were interrupted by a hiss from Remus.

"That. Doesn't. Matter. Right. NOW!" He shouted that last word so loud the house shook and the non-silverware rattled in the cabinets.

"Of course you are right Remus." Albus responded, ashamed, his face turning a slight pink, it was barely visible under his beard though.

"Well, that was of course the main reason I asked you all here, but there are other reasons. More pressing ones, I dare say." Dumbledore spoke gravely, a firm expression on his face. He tried to stare away from the livid expression on Lupin's face.

"What do you mean, Albus?" Asked a short witch, she looked to be in her mid forties as winkles were slowly sneaking up near the corners of her eyes and grey hairs were slowly invading the fading blonde ones. She looked as if she had been quite pretty in her youth.

"I mean, dear, that Voldemort has a habit of…celebrating after his victories. So, in other less subtle words, I believe that Voldemort and his servants will be or already are wreaking havoc in England, probably in smaller villages. This brought fearful but determined looks on faces all around the sturdy table.

"What I want done is this: I wish to send out people in groups of two, all over England to the small villages, trying to find Death Eaters. Do not engage them. If you find a group of them, for I am sure they won't all be together, come back here where I will wait. I will signal the order using the pendants. Use the emergency portkey if you're in a sticky situation or encounter anti-apparation wards and cannot escape an area.

All the people were assigned a partner and given a general area to search for the black robed enemies in, apparating from village to village in the vicinity. Only a few people remained in the head quarters: Albus, Remus and Molly Weasley. Molly had preoccupied herself by cooking, like she always did when Arthur went on potentially dangerous Order assignments. Soon enough the pleasing aroma of spices and baking floated to the air. Remus could have smelled the cooking easily with his heightened senses, if he cared too. His mind was on other, more depressing things. He thought of telling Sirius, but decided negatively. He would let his friend sleep; he needed to be alone right now anyway. With tears falling from his eyes he got up and walked toward the front door, under the careful hawk-like watch of his ex-Headmaster.

Albus knew to leave Remus alone, but he was worried for the boy. He knew Lupin hadn't much. He had a shabby home, shabby robes and he couldn't even acquire a proper job. Albus had been trying for a couple years now to get Remus a job in his school, but fighting the ministry on this topic proved infinitely more difficult than most others, where he was concerned. Usually he could bend the minister to his will, but it seemed unlikely in this aspect. The prejudice against so called dark creatures was strong. Still, he would continue trying.

The door shutting quietly awakened the Headmaster from his contemplating on manipulating politicians; Remus had left. Albus didn't know where he had gone but he had a reasonably valid guess: Godric's Hollow.

There was a snapping sound as a man with shabby robes and a five o' clock shadow suddenly appeared on the charred front lawn of Number 12, Godric's Hollow. The neighbours, hearing what they thought was a gun going off, quickly close their shutters and turned off the lights; to all appearances, they weren't home or were asleep. The man paid no attention to the trivial activities of the muggles though, he just stared at the sky; at a faint picture in the sky, one could barely make it out. It was ghastly he noticed, as Remus pieced at apart. The skull and snake: the Dark Mark. Remus collapsed to his knees, staring up at the starlit, not so beautiful sky – to him anyway. This made it concrete, set in stone. The Dark Mark, the burned house, all of this. He briefly wondered why there weren't any Aurors inspecting the crime scene, but then realized that most of them were out fighting Death Eaters now.

While he was surprised he had been able to concentrate well enough to succeed, Remus had apparated back to his home. He fell once more into his not-so comfy reading chair, forgetting all about his book, he just sat their and cried. He didn't know how long he just sat there, but soon enough the sun rose.

Beams of yellow light shot through his window, ricocheting off his glass cup that had been filled with water, and into his eyes successfully waking him from a nightmare-filled slumber. He blinked, and it all came back to him. In the blink of an eye he remembered that he had just lost two of his best friends ever. Two people who would accept him. On top of that, he lost their son. He would never be able to enjoy the almost constant laughing of the black haired boy again. He would never be able to scold him as he copied Sirius' and James' pranks. He wouldn't be able to try and make a scholar out of James son like he had threatened so many times before… He would never even see the boy again. He almost cried again, but didn't. Sirius had to know now. And it would be better if you heard it from a friend the skewed version _The Prophet_ would put out. He left fro Sirius' place to break the news to his last best-friend.


	4. Chapter Three

_I own nothing, JK Rowling owns HP._

_**Row of "S.J." signifies a scene break**_

**The Dog**

_Sentimental Joe_

Chapter Three

A young boy, around ten or eleven years old ran a sweaty hand over his equally sweaty forehead, trying to wipe the wetness away as it was falling into his eyes and distracting him during his test. The Raven haired boy looked normal at first, but after really observing him closely you could see things in him that no other boy his age would ever have. He was about five feet tall and was mildly thin. His black hair was about an inch long all around, he had a set jaw and fierce green eyes. There was something in those eyes that could instil fear into anyone who looked into them, a glint that promised pain if you crossed him.

At this time he was gripping a wand that was maybe twelve inches long, he held it tightly and his knuckles were white with the lack of blood flow. He was standing in a dark room, it was impossible to guess its size as the walls could not be seen due to the lack of lighting. He stepped slowly forward, as if stalking something, hunting. His head was bowed a little, but he was still looking ahead of him, making him look even more dangerous, like a lion protecting its prey.

Its eyes were the first thing the boy saw, shining in the darkness, glaring at him. But that was all he needed, he raised the wand and without a word or motion a blast of red magic shaped like a lighting bolt struck at the eyes and the beast thudded to the cobblestone floor. The boy carried on, not even looking at the animal he had just killed, he didn't care what it was, he knew that hesitance like that could cost him more than he could afford.

He walked further into the darkness. He looked up to the right where a glass window could be seen, but only by his enhanced eyesight. He knew that up there behind that glass the Master was watching his every move, looking for any faults. The boy's faced darkened as he though of the Master, he hated that man, loathed. But he owed that man everything; he owed him his very life.

The boy remembered everything he had gone through for the Master. When he was about three years old the Master had told him how it was going to be. He remembered the words vividly.

_"I took you in when you had nothing! You would have died if it weren't for me. So now you must begin to repay the debt. You will become what I want you to become, I see the fire in your eyes, the potential for hatred." Voldemort grinned, it really didn't suit him. "Yes, I see it even now at your young age. You will study Magic, and when you are older you shall practice it, mastering it! You will control magic absolutely, becoming the most powerful being, second to only myself. Sounds nice don't it?" The sick grin was back._ _The last thing you need is a name, after all "Harry" is hardly a good name to set fear into the hearts of the bravest light side warriors, now is it? You must have a fear inspiring title, as mine is. You shall become… 'The Dog, Fitting isn't it? Like a dog, you will never question your Master's Orders."_

The Master had said the last part warningly. The boy though, even after being named "The Dog" had always referred to himself as "Harry" when he spoke, which was very little. Harry had learned that the less you spoke, the less trouble you could get into. Something many of the Master's servants had yet to discover.

For as long back as he could remember he was learning everything he could about magic, from Death Eaters, the Master and in his free time. With one goal in mind, he desperately wanted to leave this place. He hated it here, the darkness just didn't sit well with him; he needed some light in his life. He didn't realize how true that thought was.

He had been thinking too hard, he realized, and he almost paid for it when a large creature swept up to him, he knew it was a Dementor. These were his least favourite enemies, as he had far too many bad memories. Of course the fact that the Dark Lord had held him at wand point, telling him that if he didn't get at least four layers of occlumency shields he'd soon discover what it meant to be in severe pain, had helped in guarding his emotions. The main problem was that Harry didn't have many happy memories to use the patronus which was the best if not only effective way known to wizards of this time to get rid of Dementors with. Harry was resourceful though, and he had found a way to get rid of them. He concluded that Dementors hated three things above all: Heat, light and mostly happiness. While Harry couldn't use the last very well, he was excellent with the first and second.

"_Fuoco Di Anima" _The spell was simple but devastating. It was one of Harry's own inventions. He had kept a journal of spells he had created. The way he saw it was that if enemy didn't know what the spell did they couldn't defend against it very well.

The white fire from the spell spat at the Dementor, causing it to shriek in terror, Harry wasn't sure they could feel any pain. Its robes lit on fire and the extreme heat and light made Harry squint and turn his face away. When he looked back there wasn't even any ashes left of the foul jail guard.

Harry kept walking, what would be next? His face protested as he smashed it into something hard, the wall. Had he reached the end? He looked to his right and saw a door, light was coming out of a crack underneath it. This must be the end, he thought.

He slid his wand into his wand holster and stood before the door; remember what the Master told him about this test.

_"This test will decide weather or not you are ready to set out on the mission I have for you. This mission will be the hardest thing you may have to do in your life. If you fail this test you will die. No one will be there to help you, they never will." The Master had said that with a far away look in his eye, as if he was recalling some long but not so forgotten memory. Soon enough his seemingly constantly furious gaze was back upon Harry, "Well, Dog, get in there."_

Harry straightened; he wondered what the mission would be. He reached to the handle of the door, twisted the dirty brass knob and pushed the door open. He took one step in before his eyes shot open with fear, a rare thing. He dived as a massive stream of fire blasted into the door frame where he had stood; he rolled onto his feet and looked around the area. There were large rocks around him, tall and grey they seemed to stab into the blue sky above him. The most prominent thing in the area was what had shot fire at him; he wasn't even sure what it was. It was a massive snake, at least thirty feet long with foot long fangs, dripping with a green liquid he knew he didn't want to drink. The oddest part of the reptile was the feathered wings jutting out of its back, could this thing really fly? The animal's wing span was only twelve feet, small compared to the body, so physically flying seemed entirely impossible, but magic was at work here.

Harry pulled his wand out of his holster with amazing speed; he had practiced a great deal. He quickly went over what he knew about snake's weaknesses. Their smell was excellent, and their eyes never closed as they didn't have eyelids. He heard a scraping sound and knew the snake was coming closer. He didn't know what to do, for the first time in his life he was at an absolute loss in a life or death situation. He was almost ready to try and run when he remembered something, something he told himself he'd never do. The killing Curse, it would work he mused, it killed anything and everything, the Master had told him so many times. He remembered that the Master used it many times on people, so did the Death Eaters. He didn't want to be like them, but was it better to kill or be killed? He shook his head; it was just an animal anyway.

Harry heard the snake on his left side, so naturally he dove to the right, thinking he would just aim and fire the green light. Easier said than done, he would soon discover. As soon as he had fled the protection of the rock the giant reptile's tail whipped at him faster than he could have imagined, hitting him and slamming him up against the rock he had just come out from behind. The snake positioned itself in front of Harry, eye to eye with a hungry look in its eye. Harry thought about the Master who never let him leave this place, never let him meet people or talk to people other than his trainers. Hatred swelled up inside him and he raised his wand, pointing it straight at the forehead of the snake.

Lord Voldemort had been watching all The Dog's movements, and he had to admit he was almost impressed with how the boy had used his own invented spell to take out the Dementor. The winged snake, a Wadjet, had the Dog stumped, he knew it would, that's why he put it in there. He was curious as to what the boy would do, in such a compromising situation. The snake had him cornered and the boy could do nothing. The Dark Lord knew that most spells would not even affect the snake's thick skin, even his own modified cutting curse would only injure the beast, killing it eventually, but not quickly enough. He watched as the boy lifted his wand, a look of pure hatred marring his handsome features, even with the dirt and blood on his face he was handsome. The second Voldemort saw that look, he knew exactly what the boy was going to do, and he was almost proud of him. He grinned, he had been worried that the boy wasn't dark enough for what he had to become, a merciless killer, but now… he just might succeed.

_"Avada Kedavra!" _The curse brought a feeling of extreme pleasure, as if all his problems had just fled from his body in the form of a bright green flash of absolute power. That was what it felt like, absolute power. No wonder the Death Eater's love these unforgivable curses so much, Harry thought as he saw the giants snake's head fall to the ground, its eyes lifeless and rolled up. He stood up and started walking away, with one last look at the snake he saw something that changed his fate, he was always going to leave the Master at some point, but now he knew he would fight against him. On the center of the snake's forehead, right where he had hit it with the killing curse there was a lightening bolt shaped scar, just like his own. He made the conclusion quickly, he had survived.

With new ideas forming in his mind, he walked toward the door on the opposite side of the roofless, rocky cage. He had his wand at the ready this time, ready to spring into action. He walked through the door and saw exactly what he had expected to see, the Master and his most… snivelling servant, Peter Pettigrew. For some reason Harry had always hated Pettigrew and his whiny ways. Harry looked at him with disgust, the man made it so easy for anyone to use him as a stepping stone.

"Excellent, Dog," Spoke Voldemort, he seemed satisfied Harry noted with relief. "Although I am quite disappointed as to how you let you guard down before the last room, you took care of the Wadjet quite… skilfully." Harry begged to differ, he strongly disagreed with the Master when he said it took skill to cast a killing curse, hell, even Pettigrew can cast a killing curse, thought Harry.

"Thank you, Master," Harry replied in the monotone he always used when speaking with people, he never really learned how to speak with people properly, or how to express his emotions. He knew what a smile was of course, but his perception of it was far different than most peoples. The kind of smiles he was used to were cruel grins. Laughing was much the same to him; it was not the joyful sound it should have been. Harry hated calling Voldemort "Master" but he knew that the consequences were great; so he put all personal feelings aside when talking to him, much like he did in the presence of anyone. Voldemort had told Harry the emotions were signs of weakness, Harry agreed but thought Voldemort was hypocritical with all the hatred in him.

"You may return to your quarters for a while, I will have dinner brought up to you by a house elf, after all you need to rest." Both Harry and Peter were in shock at those words, the Dark Lord telling one of his servants they needed rest? Harry was suspicious but didn't question it.

Up in his bedroom Harry laid back on his large bed. The room was furnished moderately, nothing too fancy, just like Harry liked it. He didn't care for beautiful things or expensive things much. The bed was made of dark wood and had blankets of forest green resting on top perfectly, a house elf must have cleaned his room, Harry thought. The room included only a few other things than the bed, a small table beside the bed and two bookshelves, filled to bursting, each had two sides. Harry looked at the bookshelf, he smiled there wasn't much left to read, he'd been busy the past years. The closet was on the other side of the room, it was full of black hooded robes or green and silver ones. Harry grew to loathe those colours. With thoughts of how life could be outside of this place where his only comfort was the silence, Harry fell into a deep slumber.

Lord Voldemort sat in front of the fire in the living room of the Manor, staring into the magical flames. He had decided that the boy was good enough to go into enemy territory; he would make a good spy. He might even be able to kill his rival who had been alive far too long for his own good, Voldemort thought. He smiled a thin dangerous smile and closed his eyes. "Elf, go get the Dog, send him down here immediately." With that he heard the scamper of little feet and sneered in disgust.

There was a soft knock at the door and Harry woke up with a start, his hand shooting down to his wand holster and bringing up the wand, he held it under the sheets but pointed at the door.

"Come in," He said in his emotionless voice. The door opened with a squeak, Harry had made it so the door would make noise as it opened so he could not be snuck up on.

"Master, The Master wants to see you," The elf said in its high pitched voice, it grated on Harry's nerves but he just answered with an affirmative grunt and sat up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed he stood and walked over to the door, with his predatory stride, a force of habit. Voldemort himself found it amusing how the boy stalked down the halls, scaring Death Eaters and house elves with a single glance. Harry didn't try to scare the elves, but it seemed they were scared of anything and everything. The Death Eater's though, he amused himself by scaring.

Harry opened the door to the living room to see the Master sitting in a large comfortable looking arm chair, staring into the fire.

"What is it Master?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.

"It is now time to give you your mission, after all, its December first, nearing September." The Dark Lord said, referring to something that Harry wasn't sure of.

"What is the mission, Master?" Harry questioned, although with his tone it didn't sound like much of a question.

"I am getting to that, Dog, Now be patient." Voldemort growled. He was just about to speak some more but Pettigrew came barging in with a look of horror on his face.

"Milord!" he screamed, Harry glared at the man for making such a high pitched noise, and for once in his life Pettigrew didn't cower in front of Harry's gaze; he was already cowering.

"What is it, wormtail," Voldemort asked in a vicious voice, angered by being interrupted.

"The Order, Master, they've found us somehow!" For the first time in his life Harry saw a flicker of fear in the Master's red eyes, for a second they turned normal, then flashed back to red with more hatred in them then ever before, Harry was terrified of the Master at this point.

Voldemort ran out of the room with Pettigrew, to the great hall. Harry was forgotten for the time. Harry knew that there was trouble and the Master was summoning his followers, but since he never told Harry to leave the room, Harry just sat there. He heard voices shouting in the room, Voldemort giving orders no doubt. As he sat in the chair, staring at the fire like Voldemort had done, he thought. Staring at the fire was a good thinking aid he found. What was the Order? Obviously it was the Dark Lord's Enemies, and they must have some powerful wizards Harry thought, otherwise the Master would not have been fearful. He racked his brain for who it could be. Who could be the man or group of people that Voldemort feared? He searched his mind for the names of pure blooded wizards of this time, ones that weren't in league with the Master: Weasely's? No, he hadn't read anything important about them. Next he thought of the Diggory's, while mildly influential, he hadn't read of any great exploits from that family either. The Chang's maybe? They were an Asian wizarding family he knew, famous for their charms abilities, but once again, Harry knew they were nothing compared to the Master. There were two families left which he had read of. The Longbottoms, and the Potters. The Longbottoms had held off many Death Eater attacks before, and it was said they even held of the Dark Lord himself before. It could be them. The Potters were powerful he knew. People said that they may have been the heirs of Gryffindor, but no one knew for sure as the bloodlines mingled with muggles, much like the Ravenclaw line. But many of them had died off, were there any left? He wondered. His curiosity spiked so he looked around, judging by the loud sounds coming from the meeting room he figured that the Master would be a while so Harry ran off to his own personal little Library to look up the names of pure bloods. Surely no one less than a pure blood could put fear into the Master.

Voldemort had been rallying his troops, they were almost all their when the order burst in, headed by that Mudblood Dumbledore. Oh yes, he was a muggleborn but very few people knew that. Voldemort hated him even more for this fact.

Soon enough the battle had reached its climax, the Order had been picking off the newly arriving Death Eaters, and holding off the ones already there, they had the advantage in numbers. Voldemort knew that Dumbledore had asked the ministry for help in this battle, he knew his side could not win. He ordered a tactical retreat to his inner circle, the rest of the Death Eaters would just apparate away when they saw him leave with the inner circle. Voldemort ran into the living room to get the Dog, he burst through the door, he wasn't sitting in the chair. Voldemort screeched in rage, that bloody Dog would pay dearly for this! He heard the door open once more just before he was about to run to that blasted boy's room and there was Dumbledore standing in the door frame, his tall frame casting an ominous shadow in the fire lit room.

"Stop running Tom, just renounce your ways, I can get the ministry to help you!" Dumbledore pleaded with Voldemort, his wand at the ready though.

"The same old Dumbledore," Voldemort sneered, "Always believing there's hope for people, you're blind Dumbledore; some people don't change. In fact, most people never change from what they are, not completely. You can still feel the pleasure that coursed through your veins when you cast the Killing curse on Grindlwald can't you?" Voldemort laughed at the expression on Dumbledore's face, it was one of deepest regret and shame.

"Yes, Tom, I can. But you are so lost in your Dark ways that it doesn't even affect you anymore. It's a sad thing Tom, when a person becomes a monster." Dumbledore spoke, his tone made it seem like he was sorry, as if Tom becoming Voldemort was his own fault.

"There you go again with your 'light' and 'dark' nonsense," Voldemort looked at Dumbledore with a condescending gaze. "There is no such thing, Dumbledore, as light and dark. There is only Power."

"Your wrong Tom, I hope one day you see that," Dumbledore stared at Tom with pity.

"Well then Dumbledore, I suppose it's time I left, but if you keep him from me, I'll find him and kill him," This was said with so much venom Dumbledore thought that Tom really might have been a snake with an almost-human animagus form. But the most prominent thing in Dumbledore's mind was a simple question: what the hell Voldemort was talking about? Who is 'He'?

With that Voldemort apparated out of the manor, dodging Dumbledore's overpowered stunning spell at the same time. Dumbledore sighed and put out the fire, he began making his way back to the room where the main battle had taken place.

Harry had sat on the top of the stairs that led from the hallway into the living room, watching the confrontation between Dumbledore and Voldemort; he had drawn his own conclusions in his clever young mind. First, he thought that both of the men were flawed in their ideals, but he could tell that the old one called Dumbledore was at least trying to do the right thing.

Over the light and dark issue, Harry thought Voldemort, or Tom as Dumbledore called him (Harry was still confused over that) was on the right track. There was no light magic or dark magic; he believed that it was based upon the intent of the caster. Of course Rituals and the unforgivable curses were addictive and ate away at your soul and body, driving a person out of their mind. They could be considered dark, but Harry preferred to think of them as a really dark grey.

Dumbledore turned to the door he had come in, it was shut but he could hear the last parts of a battle going on, mostly just stunning the alive but armless Death Eaters that had not escaped, which was more than a few. Other than the inner circle only maybe ten or so had gotten away. The Order and Ministry had captured approximately sixty Death Eaters. As Albus Dumbledore was walking through that door and into the great hall, one Harry "The Dog" jolted out of his thoughts. If he just stayed here it was likely that Voldemort would come back for him and his punishment would be nearly fatal, he knew. He had to leave now, this was his chance. His problem was weather to go with this Dumbledore fellow and his followers or not. Would they be like the Death Eaters? From what he saw of their leader, he doubted it. Plus, they were allied with the Ministry, the very people who held up the laws and acted upon the constitution of wizarding kind.

"I won't get far by myself… Even if I am quite adept at magic I can't get along without an adult, without a guardian." Harry mused, using his limited knowledge of wizarding laws; it was never something he held a particular interest in.

Quickly as he could he ran upstairs and took only what he thought would be useful. He took his battle robes; they were not dragon hide, as he found dragon hide to cumbersome and constricting for the physical part of his style of fighting. Instead, they were just normal black robes with protective spells placed on them. He took his favourite book, "Magical Theories and Conspiracies" and also his wicked looking hunting knife.

The reason why he didn't just shrink all his books and put them in a bag was because he didn't want to look suspicious. How would it look if a ten year old boy walked in with over eighty dark arts books? The book he did take was a group of theories and the like about magic, what was possible and what was impossible according to the authors. Some of it was utter foolishness, like the part where it said there was some barmy wizard that flew around changing the weather, the author of this particular article guessed it was Merlin himself. But there were interesting theories. For example there was one that stated that one of the most influential magical laws was flawed. The law was this: Magic is neutral. The author, a man named something Lovegood, said that magic was alive, it was sentient and could choose sides if it wished to. Harry thought this over for many long hours of the night; he came up with no evidence for either side though.

The long wicked looking knife was the only gift he'd ever been given. He remembered that day well, it was branded into his memory.

_Harry was walking down the hall, his usual glare in place sent a couple Death Eaters almost running down the hall. He saw something strange though, it was a young girl walking up the place. She looked entirely out of place, dressed in blue robes, staring at the pictures on the wall. The very ones that used to insult Harry until he blew one up with his first ever self-made spell, the spell now had a name. The name amused Harry. Harry called it "Fléau de tableau" French for "Painting Bane." _

_Harry drifted out of his thoughts when the spoke to him. She spoke to him! At first he was surprised and didn't say anything. Then she pinched him in the arm, saying something along the lines of: "Is anybody home." He didn't understand why she said that as she could obviously see him right there. He took a quick step backward and glared at her. Funnily enough, she didn't back down like the others. She just lifted one eyebrow and stood there. _

_"Who are you and what do you wish?" Harry spoke in a monotone, but with a slight snap to his words._

_"I'm Blaise Zabini," She said, as if her very name should have made Harry gasp in astonishment. Harry had been taught that the Zabini's were wealthy benefactors to the Masters cause, so he didn't try to scare her as he did others. He just kept up his normal façade of the uncaring and emotionless "Dog.' _

_She looked at him finally lowering that bloody eyebrow, she stared at him a second and pulled something out of the bag she had been carrying over her shoulder._

_"I got this for my birthday from an uncle but its stupid and useless, so you can have it," She spoke airily as she pulled out a largish, wicked looking knife, She pressed it into his hands and walked off. Harry stared after her, totally flabbergasted._

Harry took the knife and put it in the same bag he had shoved his combat robes and book in. He took off down the hallway at in incredible rate, fearful of being left behind. As he came up to the stairs he slid down the rail about halfway, after that point he just jumped off the rail, it was a good distance down, maybe fifteen feet, but he landed in a crouched position with his hands steadying him, a slight pain shot up his legs making him suck in a sharp breath. Ignoring the pain he ran off to the meeting room.

Albus Dumbledore was the last person to leave the great hall, the Ministry had ordered that this house be burned down, utterly destroyed lest He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came back to tried and re-take his old base of operations. Just as Albus was leaving, he heard the great hall doors fly open and there stood the last noun he had expected, A Young boy, Albus guessed he was about the age of the First Years, stood in the doors, panting softly and he looked a little fearful. Luckily, Albus was almost an expert dealing with children.

The bearded man walked over to Harry, in slow steps, he smiled at him, a kind smile. Harry wondered what the hell the man was smiling about, he voiced his concerns.

"I'm smiling because I'm not angry!" Albus exclaimed. Harry looked at the man as if he was insane; it seemed the man was used to such looks because he just smiled wider. "Now, who are you? I'm Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Albus said all the while smiling like, Harry thought, a fool.

"I'm Harry." He responded simply. Now, Albus would have recognized him as James Potter's son, but Harry was much different than James. He looked similar, and he had his mother's eyes, but he held himself differently. While James held himself with a carefree posture, Harry stood still, completely still and rigid, he walked as if he was hunting something. While Lilly smiled with her eyes, Harry used them to attack or just sit in his skull, giving nothing away.

"Well, Harry, It's certainly nice to meet you, but what are you doing here?" Albus asked with worry sketched onto his face. Harry decided to answer truthfully.

"I used to live here, but I'm leaving now, with you." The green eyed boy spoke with finality. Dumbledore was slightly unnerved by the way the boy had just seemingly commanded him, but he was more curious at the fact that Harry had lived here. He knew the boy wasn't lying due to his legilimency skills, which were among the best of this age, rivalled only by Voldemort and Flamel.

"You lived here?" Dumbledore said incredulously. He could hardly believe that Voldemort kept a child around.

"Yes." Harry answered, in a monotone similar to what he used before, he sounded quite bored with the Headmaster repeating what he had just said.

"Well, for now, come with me, I'll take you to a safer place and we'll discuss what to do with you there. Does that sound alright?"

"Yes." Harry answered; once again the boredom laced his tone.

With that Albus gripped the boy by the shoulder and apparated both of them back to Hogsmeade, the village near Dumbledore's school Hogwarts.

**NOTE: some of the foreign languages used in this chapter may be inaccurate. Correct me if you would like to. **

**Please Review and tell me what you think.**

S.J.


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